Angel Eyes
by FireAndIceCollide
Summary: Cara deals with the change reaped on her by serving the Seeker - and also deals with a blossoming affection for a certain blue-eyed Confessor. Rated T for now. That might change later. Possible spoilers if you've been living under a rock and have watched none of the second season.
1. Chapter 1

_Cara Masen was a guarded person, understandably. She rarely talked about herself - she deflected questions about her past with sarcastic comments or tiny tidbits of the truth that made people so uncomfortable they wouldn't ask again. It usually worked. _

_ But when she had begun traveling with the Seeker, Kahlan, and Zedd, that had mostly changed. She still liked to keep to herself on the subject of her past and any kind of emotion she was feeling. The Seeker respected that, as did the old wizard._

_ But not Kahlan._

_ The Mother Confessor was a damaged woman in her own right. Maybe that was why she took such an interest in Cara's emotional well-being. It wasn't appreciated, though. It was slightly annoying, actually. Cara was a Mord-Sith. She could handle anything. She didn't need to_ talk about it.

_And Kahlan Amnell had no idea what it meant to be damaged._

This was the general mindset of one very put-off Mord-Sith as she and her party traveled through the heart of a thick wood in the southern part of the Midlands. They were moving at a strong pace on an eastern path, towards D'Hara, bearing slightly north. The compass was leading them towards the People's Palace, of all places. Perhaps it was a coincidence, and they would reach the Stone of Tears before Cara had to go near a place she had been shunned from. The place where her sisters would be. The sisters who had betrayed her. Cara felt a nagging itch in the pit of her stomach. She was probably just jumping to conclusions.

But if she saw them again, she would have to try and kill them. And that would be just downright unpleasant for everyone involved.

"Cara?"

Kahlan, damn her. She had noticed Cara's thoughtful expression, apparently. "Mother Confessor." Cara didn't make eye contact. She still felt uncomfortable sometimes, being in the presence of a Confessor. Someone she had been trained to hate. Someone who had spared her life and saved it on multiple occasions.

"If you're hungry, Richard should be back any minute now." Cara could practically hear her smiling. "And if he isn't, then Zedd is threatening to seek him out and drag him back by the ear."

Cara smirked at the image in her mind. "Wouldn't that be a sight. The heir to the D'Haran throne and the Seeker of Truth reduced to a pouting adolescent by his cantankerous bottomless pit of a grandfather."

"Watch who you're calling cantankerous and bottomless pit when you yourself don't speak until you've had breakfast, child." Zedd called from across the camp. "Bags and toasted toads, where in the name of the Creator has that boy gotten off to with supper...?" Zedd stood, adjusting his robes, and set off heavily into the woods, presumably to find out just where in the name of the Creator Richard had gotten off to with supper.

Kahlan was still smiling. Cara was still not making eye contact. Kahlan sat down beside her and got that expression on her face. That searching, probing, analyzing expression in those ocean-blue eyes. "How are you holding up?"

"Holding up from what." Cara said flatly, though she knew exactly what Kahlan was getting at.

"You know from what. Leo's barely been dead three weeks."

"We weren't even friends. He was impossible to deal with. We were no more than you and he were, or he and Zedd. Less, even."

"We both know that isn't true, Cara."

"I thought you couldn't read a Mord-Sith, Mother Confessor."

"Not as a Confessor, no. But as a woman, I can see that you're hurting."

Cara finally turned her head to meet Kahlan's eyes, lowering her brow into a half-glare, half-smirk. "Your womanly instincts need honing, then, because I'm not in any pain, Mother Confessor. My only issues right now are, in a nutshell, the possibility that very soon the Keeper will break out of his prison and enslave the world of the living, and when people constantly harass me about feelings I don't have. I can't do much about the first except what I'm already doing, but _you _can fix the second for me by keeping your opinions about my so-called _pain _to yourself."

Kahlan pulled back, her brows knitting together in the middle of her smooth forehead, but otherwise showing no sign that Cara had surprised or irritated her. Cara didn't really care if she had.

"That's... that's okay with me, Cara." Kahlan stood. "But if you ever need to talk-"

"I won't."

Kahlan smiled a warm, strangely amused smile. What did she find so funny? She was infuriating. "If you _do, _I'm always here. Just come and find me." And she turned to walk away.

Cara scowled. What she had said was true. Her dalliance with Leo had been... relaxing. The physical aspect, that is. But he awakened no deep-seated emotion inside her; her grief had been short-lived. And still she felt... off. Something was nagging at her. She supposed she was changing. But she didn't want to change - she liked who she was. Or did she?

Cara found herself admiring Kahlan's hair as the Confessor crouched beside the river they were camped beside. It was a very pretty dark-brown, black in some lights, thick and wavy. Untamed, a bit unlike the rest of the reserved Confessor. It was nice.

_What, I'm admiring _hair _now? _Cara thought with disgust. _Next I'll be hoping to die in bed, old and toothless._

She was a Mord-Sith. She was happy to be a Mord-Sith. So what was wrong with her?


	2. Chapter 2

Cara had to admit, it felt wonderful to be clean again.

She scraped her fingertips against her scalp, working the soap into the cropped and tanged blond mop that was her hair. It was still too short to braid, and therefore got into all kinds of knots while riding. The sharp pull and tug as she raked her fingers through it felt kind of nice, though.

It was also nice to be alone, in this secluded little part of the stream, with no one watching her and no one expecting things from her.

The Confessor had kept her word since their talk three days before, and hadn't badgered Cara about her feelings for Leo. The Mord-Sith had felt eyes on her, though, searching blue eyes that turned away quickly when they were caught. And that was almost as annoying as the talking. Something had to be done about this. She was no toddler that needed constant observation or coddling. It was almost downright disrespectful. She was a Mord-Sith.

There was a rustling outside, and light footsteps. Cara lunged for her Agiel, muscles locked in anticipation of finally maybe being able to strike back, water droplets showering the stone around her as she surged up from the water...

"Cara! It's just me."

Cara sagged, more disappointed than relieved. She dropped her Agiel back among her leather. "Wonderful. Are you following me now?"

"Am I not allowed to search for a place to have a bath when I want one?"

Cara tried to keep her annoyance to herself, but some of it must have showed on her face. "Have at it, then."

Kahlan looked a little sad as she sat on a rock and began unlacing her boots. "I know we haven't gotten onto the best of terms, Cara. And I know you've never liked me much. But we both want the same thing - for Richard to be safe. We could try to be a little more friendly, for his sake."

Cara wrung her hair out roughly, squeezing a curtain of water from it. "I never said I didn't like you, Mother Confessor. I merely stated that its irritating that you seem to think the death of a man I happened to make love to should bother me. I have made love to many men. Many of them are now dead. I even killed some of them. I am Mord-Sith. I don't fear death; it causes me no discomfort."

"It's not the death itself I thought would bother you. It's the loss of someone who made you laugh. Someone who made you happy." Kahlan was setting her stockings aside and standing, loosening her corset.

Cara turned away from Kahlan and looked at the rocky ground around the water. It was hard, rough, jagged. Pitted. Marred by time and continual pounding of something stronger and more mighty than itself. Changing but never breaking away. _Like me, _she thought savagely. "There are other things that can make me happy." _What kind of answer was that?_

"I'm glad, Cara. I really am."

She sounded sincere. Cara also detected a note of pity in her smooth voice. She couldn't handle that. Pity was one thing she couldn't handle.

She pulled herself out of the water. "I'll see you back at camp, Mother Confessor."

_**XXX**_

Cara took second watch that night. It felt like she had barely been asleep ten minutes when Richard gently shook her shoulder.

"I'll take your watch, if you want." He whispered when he saw the reluctance in her eyes. "I'm not tired at all."

"Neither am I." Cara said defensively, and forced herself into a sitting position. Zedd was snoring loudly across the dying embers of the campfire. Kahlan's soft breathing was almost unheard over the trill of cicadas in the grass.

"Alright. Good night, then." Richard knew better than to argue.

"Goodnight, Seeker."

Cara stood, stretching her arms towards the sky. It was a warm night. The moon was full and hovered in the mist of stars high above her head. She paced just outside the clearing they were camped in, her booted feet making no noise in the undergrowth.

For the first time since his death, she really thought about what had happened with Leo. The reason Cara kept pushing against Kahlan's attempts at a heart-to-heart wasn't because she didn't want to talk about her feelings - well, she didn't, but that wasn't the reason - it was because she really didn't have feelings. His death didn't bother her any more than any other death would. Why was that? The Confessor was right, he _had _made her laugh. So why didn't she miss him?

_Dear spirits, now I'm wondering why I'm not a blubbering mess because someone died. _Cara thought with disgust. _What's happening to me?_

And then there was this strange nagging feeling. Like there was something she was missing, something she didn't understand completely. Almost like she had forgotten something, but she couldn't remember what she had forgotten. She wasn't missing anything. Mord-Sith didn't miss things.

She had to stop thinking so hard about everything. Before meeting the Seeker things had been simple, and everything had always turned out alright. She just needed to make things that simple again.

She settled down on a dead log for her watch, her eyes and ears sharp, her Agiel at the ready. Finally, something else that had been bothering her crossed her mind.

Why couldn't she get the image of the Mother Confessor's sincere, warm smile out of her mind?

_**XXX**_

__Kahlan Amnell had a dream that night.

It was frightening, how clear-cut and real the scene around her was. Green fire spurted from jagged crevices in the dry, parched ground. Naked bodies twisted and writhed in agony around her, but she couldn't help them. A dark fear stole into her heart.

She was dreaming of the underworld.

Just above her, in the shadows of a row of stone pillars, she was drawn to a certain form. His black hair brushed his broad shoulders, clothed in rich red robes, and his gait was purposeful. Determined.

_Darken Rahl._

Kahlan seemed to float up to him, above the scalding fires and the agonized bodies. She followed him down a rocky path, floating above and behind him.

He was striding down into a pit, a pit of dark, inky tendrils, that seemed to spread and almost emerge from the dark depths before snapping back to their shadowy source. Kahlan didn't want to follow him. Every fiber of her being seemed to hold her back, fight against whatever was drawing her forward. But the strange tug seemed to win out, and she followed Rahl deep into the pit.

"My Lord, I know what to do. I can fix my mistakes." Rahl said humbly, with no preamble. Rahl? Humble? Dear spirits, where was she?

_"Your former attempts have been thwarted. Why is this one any different?"_

The voice was huge. Icy cold, swelling into the darkness and chilling Kahlan right to her sleeping body, beside the dying campfire.

Darken Rahl bowed his head and seemed to ignore the criticism. "My Lord, this is full-proof."

_"I'm listening."_

"I want Cara. Cara Masen. As a baneling."

There was a long pause in which Kahlan's shock seemed minuscule. _"The Mord-Sith?"_

"The best of them, My Lord."

_"Hm. Alright, Rahl. Have your Mord-Sith. I'll take care of it." _The icy, deep laughter radiated to the pit of Kahlan's spirit.

She jolted awake with a gasp. Cara's hand was an inch away from her shoulder. The Mord-Sith appeared coolly surprised. "It's your watch. Nightmare?"

Kahlan felt cold. She felt her lower lip shaking, saw her hands trembling. "I... I..."

"I'll take your watch, if you do-"

_"No!" _Kahlan said loudly, cutting Cara off. "Go to sleep. I'll take my watch."

Cara looked Kahlan up and down. "Alright. Goodnight, Mother Confessor."

Kahlan stood. "G-Goodnight, Cara." She took her knife from her pack, beside her sleeping bag.

Cara gave Kahlan one last odd look before settling into a comfortable position.

Kahlan sat shakily on the log just outside the clearing that Cara had just vacated. She had had such dreams before, and they had come true. Would this also come to be?

Cara. Cara a baneling. To do that, she would have to be killed.

And that made Kahlan feel a panic that was almost suffocating.

She wouldn't let it happen. If she had to breathe down Cara's neck until the Keeper was sealed into his prison again, she would. Cara would _not _become a baneling if she had anything to say about it.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Richard!"_

The hissing voice came from behind the Seeker, apparently bodiless. Richard whirled, one hand on his sword, half-pulling it from its sheathe, calculations shooting through his head. _How close was Zedd? Cara? Had the enemy already gotten to the camp - and to Kahlan?_ "Who's there?"

"It's _me." _The same whisper growled in exasperation. "Over _here." _Accompanied by the sound of something large shifting in the leaves, a red-gloved hand emerged from between two tree trunks, giving a small wave before disappearing into the shadows again. There was another loud crunch of leaves and silence.

"Cara?" Richard dropped his sword back into place, approaching cautiously. He rounded the two oaks, which were placed so close together someone could easily see from between them and remain unseen. He grinned. "I thought you didn't want to come hunting? What are you-"

Something yanked hard on Richard's pants leg. He lost his balance, tumbling off to the side. The ground seemed to disappear from under his feet and he fell, grappling for his sword.

_"Shh!"_

Cara pressed a finger to his lips and he opened his eyes wide. They were in what looked like a large rabbit den, underneath a small overhang from behind the two trees. The dirt under Richard's back was cool, and the only light came from the slim opening he could barely see from where he lay.

Cara finally removed her hand from his mouth. "Stay quiet."

Richard half-propped himself up on an elbow. She was on one knee beside him, her head stooped so as to not touch the dirt ceiling. "What are you _doing?" _he whispered harshly.

"Hiding. I'm very pleased with this spot - you didn't even see it until you fell into it." She smirked.

"Hiding from _what?" _Richard growled. "Spirits, I could've cut your head off. Don't sneak up on me like that."

Cara waved a hand dismissively. "With me positioned like I was and at the angle you fell, your sword arm was far too close to the wall to even draw your blade, much less fight with it."

"The question remains - what are you hiding from?"

Cara took a look out the sliver of opening, a furtive look in her eyes. "The Mother Confessor."

_"Kahlan?"_

"Yes!" Cara snarled. "Keep it down."

"Why in the name of the spirits are you hiding from Kahlan?"

"Because she won't leave me _be!" _Cara exclaimed in a whispered outburst. "She hunts with me, she rides next to me, puts her sleeping roll next to mine... I woke up during her watch and she was staring at me! And I _know _she stayed awake during my watch. I can't even visit the latrine without her hovering by, waiting for me to finish! I can't kill her, I can't torture her, and I cant scare her - this is uncharted territory! I can't _breathe, _Richard!"

Richard glanced around her cramped hiding place. "And this is your solution?"

Cara scowled. "I don't see you coming up with anything better."

Richard sat up completely, brushing the dirt from his back. "Look, why don't you just talk to Kahlan instead of hiding like a sulky child?"

"The last time I talked to her it resulted in this! No more talking. Talking has only gotten me into trouble." Cara shook her head.

Richard spread his hands. "Then I don't know what you want me to-"

A very familiar sound echoed through the trees, ricocheting off the rough bark and the leafy ground. It struck a cold, awful fear in Richard's heart and ignited a reluctant, white-hot need radiating from the palm he was itching to lay on his sword.

It was the sound of battle cries, and blades pitted against each other for a fight to the death.

_**XXX**_

__The next few minutes were a blur.

Cara flung herself from her foolish hiding place and was running, her legs pumping hard, sinew and muscle and bone tightening and pushing in complete synchronization, unaware of anything but the meaning of the sound she had heard. There was death in the air today. Surely some of it would be at her hands. But how much of it would be at their hands, those that hunted them, those that opposed them?

The Seeker was behind her, his reflexes not as fast, hindered by his heavy pack which he still wore. Her usual need to stay right beside him, to make him stay back, to watch him and watch those that came at him was gone. She was running to the campsite at full tilt, driven by some other motive, one she couldn't identify.

When she and Richard burst through the trees, the little hollow they had made home for the night was in disarray. The sun bursting at short intervals through the trees glanced off swinging blades; the air was thick with flying arrows; somewhere from the far edge, lights and flame shot across the ground, scorching bodies and flinging them away.

Cara sprang into the fray, looking left, looking right - what was she looking for? Her Agiels burned into her hands, even through her gloves, the familiar agony ripping through her forearms and jolting to her shoulders, sharpening her senses. The world seemed to come into focus.

Zedd, his back to a rise, was fighting off a large group with roiling, sticky flame, but for every man he pushed back two more surged to the forefront. Richard was hurrying to his aid, the Sword of Truth at the ready, biting like righteous steel into their flesh.

The Mother Confessor - may the spirits damn that white dress - was like a beacon, drawing their swords and their arrows. Her knives flashed, weaving under their blades and plucking the life from their bodies.

_"There she is!" _

The cry came from one of the attackers, ringing roughly above the clang of swords and the grunts of exertion. It seemed as if the chaos introverted. The attackers point-blank dropped whatever battle they were engaged in and converged on Cara, hacking with their swords and their lances and their maces. She fought them off, her Agiels a scarlet blur. They went down screaming, pain twisting their hearts to a stand still.

Cara raised her left arm, her Agiel stopping the path of a broadsword aimed for her skull. With the other hand, she maneuvered under the arm of another man, aimed for his heart, her love for the deep-seated need to kill driving her Agiel. On the outskirts of the attack Richard and Zedd struck at the attackers' backs, trying to cut through to Cara.

_A knee to someone's nose._

_ An Agiel to a skull, elbow to a jaw._

_ Kick._

_ Punch._

_ Agiel._

_ Soft, tender flesh - break it. Snap it. Tear it._

For what seemed like an eternity, that was all there was, the glory of a brawl, the luxury of doing something with her hands. It was exhilarating.

But suddenly, there was something else. Another presence at her back. The men around her seemed to be cut down faster.

_Boot to the face - crush the skull._

_ Agiel to the temple - unconscious. Boot to chest, dead._

_ Agiel to the heart _-

A short dagger protruded from the man's chest. His eyes bulged directly in front of her, and he fell. The attackers were scattering at that point, too many of them having fallen, calling for their friends to join them, not even bothering to grab any wounded still alive. Richard made to run after them, but Zedd grabbed him by the arm.

Cara whirled, the man she had been about to kill dead across her feet. He had a short, curved sword in his left hand that she hadn't seen. All her attention had been on the club in his right hand. He had been about to kill her. He would've succeeded.

The Mother Confessor strode past her, silent for once. She bent and, with a stony face, removed her dagger from the man's chest. "You should be more careful, Cara." she said, lifting her eyes only slightly. "We can't afford to lose you."

Rage and something else permeated Cara's mind. She didn't need this insane protection - she was Mord-Sith.

_But the man would've killed her._

She wasn't afraid to die - this life had been cruel to her. Death was something she understood. The Mother Confessor hadn't needed to save her. She didn't need to be _careful. _

Why did she feel like she should thank Kahlan?

Cara had never thanked anyone in her life. Kahlan had done her no service. But she felt like she had. She didn't want to die, she realized. She didn't even want to think about it. And that was unacceptable.

"What did he say?" Richard asked, his breath coming hard. "The one who yelled. What did he say?"

Kahlan's voice was impassive as she turned each body over, searching for any sign of life. "He said 'there she is'. He was pointing at Cara." She glanced up at the Mord-Sith.

Richard looked from Cara to Kahlan. "What? Why Cara? Why wouldn't they be trying to kill you, or me, at the very least?" He peered at Cara, as if waiting for an answer as to why such a large group of men would've been sent to kill her.

Cara glared. "Why are you looking at me? How am I supposed to know why _anybody_ does what they do?"

At that exact moment, a man on the lip of the hollow stood, clutching the wound to his side. With labored breathing, he began to run, half-hobbling. They heard him stumble through the undergrowth.

Somehow, Cara couldn't take that. She couldn't let one escape.

"Cara, no!"

It was Kahlan's voice, and that only pushed Cara harder. She was out of the hollow within a second, running the man down. He seemed to find his stride when he saw her and moved faster, glancing back, panting. Her run to the campsite and the fight were taking their toll.

He emerged in a huge meadow, and stumbled again. Cara closed the distance between them and raised her Agiel, all her rage at her recent inherent confusion, her sudden desire to live to be old, and most importantly the infuriating Mother Confessor channeled into the magical weapon.

Something glinted in the air, and Cara's blood ran cold. A knife, inside her guard, making its way to her throat. In desperation, the man had slung his arm toward her, and by a fluke of the spirits had picked the exact right second. The world seemed to slow down. Every second was a day, and Cara regarded her situation with frustration.

_So this is how it ends._

_ What will Richard do without me?_

_ What will I do without him?_

She would never know what would've been, who she could've become. After the Keeper was trapped she could've done what she wanted, roamed, traveled, free of any bond or allegiance. But no more.

After all her battles, all the men she had killed, everything she had done, she was to die in this field, her throat slashed by an amateur mercenary with a crude iron blade. It was almost comical, when she thought about it. Had she had the time, she might've laughed.

The world came back into focus and she braced herself for the blow - but instead she felt herself being knocked to the ground.

There was a tumble and a sharp pain in her forehead. She was tangled in something, and blood was running down into her eyes. She couldn't see, could barely hear past the rushing in her ears...

_Thunder with no sound._

The impact jarred her very bones, like every part of her body aching with a sudden bout of rheumatism. Something hard butted into her cheekbone. She flinched, her arms flailing, unable to open her eyes to get away from the soft fabric that was encasing her -

Light behind her eyelids. Someone dabbed the blood away from her eyelids. "Cara? It's me, Kahlan."

_She just couldn't leave well enough alone, could she?_

Cara batted her hands away - spirits, but they were so gentle - and jolted up. Her head swam. She looked around for the man she had chased. He was dead, for sure this time.

"The Confession killed him." Kahlan said, as if she knew what Cara was thinking. "He spent his last bit of will trying to slay you. After that, he had no strength to live."

There was blood spattered across the Confessor's dress, bleeding through from the inside. So that was what had trapped her. The Mother Confessor had knocked her over, her forehead just nicking the knife meant for her throat, and Cara had become tangled in the trail of her dress. Kahlan had saved her yet again.

_**XXX**_

That night, Kahlan watched Cara as she slept. Her breathing was surprisingly easy. Zedd had applied some medication to her wound and bandaged it, saying it would be all better come morning. Cara seemed un-bothered. Since the incident in the meadow, she had barely said a word. Kahlan rarely knew what Cara was thinking, but her anger and any other powerful emotion was always apparent. Never had she seemed so... cold. Cara was a person of heat and passion, whether it be rage or undying loyalty. She had never put up walls so complete and icy.

But that was the only word for what was happening now.

And it was driving Kahlan insane.

She didn't know what to do. She was confused and she didn't like it. All she knew was that she had to protect Cara no matter what, or it would all become unbearable. The rise and fall of the leather-clad chest gave her comfort. What had happened today could not happen again.

Kahlan wouldn't let it, if she had to travel to the Underworld herself and put Darken Rah in his place.


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: **I have yet to do a disclaimer on any of these chapters and since I don't want to be sued, and since the next few chapters are going to draw directly from the show, I figured I had better. **I do NOT own Legend of the Seeker or any of these characters. **_

_If I did, Cara and Kahlan would definitely be closer._

_Just saying._

Cara let fall the blade of the axe, splitting the knobby log in half. Just behind her, the Mother Confessor gathered small twigs to feed the slowly growing fire. Cara kept her back to Kahlan, refusing to turn and catch those gentle blue eyes watching her.

Richard and Zedd were murmuring over the cauldron of stew on the fire. Kahlan smiled fondly at them as she dumped her twigs on the cleared-off ground. Cara also refused to look at that smile that was stuck in her head anyway.

Since the attack she had barely said anything. Kahlan had watched her from afar, but that was quickly becoming the norm. Richard and Zedd had both tried goading her into her old mood, but they were unsuccessful. She could tell they were worried. But there were far more important things she needed to give thought to.

Richard made an appreciative sound as he sipped from a spoon Zedd offered him. Kahlan ruffled his thick, dark hair. "Look at this. The big, strong Seeker of Truth and Zeddicus Zu'ul Zorander, First Wizard, fussing over the cooking while the women chop and gather wood. What would your mothers think?" She smiled at them, softening the light teasing.

Richard, after meeting Kahlan's gaze with a matching smile, reached over to the cauldron and dropped a few shredded leaves in, peering over the rim as they fell to the bubbling liquid within. He grinned, glancing up at Cara through his lashes. "If you'd had Cara's corn cake last time she made the attempt, you'd tell her to stick to chopping, too."

Cara spared a moment to shoot him a glare before continuing her chopping. She knew he would be pleased with himself for eliciting that much.

After that quick glare, everything seemed to happen very fast.

The Mother Confessor took a single step outside the circle of the clearing, stooping to pick up a twig.

A rapidly approaching screech pierced the night, ringing in Cara's ears and jarring the smiles from their faces.

Richard's hand flew to his sword, the ring of its steel punctuating the call.

Moonlight was blocked for a split second, and Cara felt something solid slam hard into her back. She lurched forward and was wrenched upward. Her breath left her.

Something clenched around her shoulders and she felt her feet leave the ground. Her shin smacked into a tree; she could hear nothing but the rushing of air and see nothing but the fast-coming night sky.

"_NO!"_

The voice was Richard's. Cara strained and twisted her middle, trying to look at the ground. There was another screech and she was jolted violently. The muscles of her shoulders strained and pulled, sharp aches raking her joints. It was obvious she was not allowed to squirm.

She looked down, craning her neck to see over her kicking feet. She could just see the sea of trees falling rapidly away. She was being flown somewhere. She had been taken.

_She could not move her arms._

_ She couldn't reach her Agiel._

_ She was helpless._

Panic raced through her veins, like a heavy weight on her chest. It had been a long time since Cara had felt so completely and utterly useless. Even chained in prison, awaiting trial by a village with a grudge, it had been her terms, her confessions, her choices. This was no choice - this was no way to die.

She had no idea how long she remained like that - suspended in the air, suspended in a permanent state of mental uncertainty - before the scenery beneath her swinging feet changed. She passed through something - a barrier of some sort. She felt something, deep in her heart, as if something had been cut off, as if her connection to the outside world had been severed. She kicked and struggled, letting out a cry from between clenched teeth. She was desperate. The thing carrying her - she had determined it was some kind of gar-like creature - shook her, but she would not relent, no matter the pain.

"Cara! Cara, calm down!" came a voice from somewhere off to her left. A very familiar voice.

No.

Oh no.

This could not be happening.

_**XXX**_

__"This cannot be happening." Cara moaned as Kahlan settled her onto the hard stone floor of the filthy dungeon. They were in the bowels of a huge white palace amidst what was probably a quite bustling city.

"It's alright, Cara. We can get out of here, I know we can. And even if we can't, Richard will come for us, you know he will." Kahlan said soothingly, laying one of her cool, smooth hands on Cara's brow.

Cara shook it off. "That's not _quite _what I was talking about, Mother Confessor, but thank you for the moti_vation." _she snapped.

Kahlan didn't appear bothered. "You should let me take a look at your shoulder. And your ribs."

"I'm fine." Cara growled, pulling herself to her feet. The pain racked her body, but she strived not to show it. The bleeding lip on that handsy guard had been reward enough for a few bruised ribs. It was only too bad her Agiels didn't work in this place.

"You didn't have to protect me, Cara." Kahlan said quietly. "I could've handled it."

Cara turned her head slightly, not looking at the kneeling Mother Confessor, at those blue eyes that, if she was honest with herself, haunted her every dream. "Richard would want me to look after you." she finally barked. "Your power is useless here. I cannot fail him."

"You could never disappoint Richard, Cara. You know that."

Cara looked back at the floor, staring as hard as she could, trying to avoid thinking about the soft voice and its tantalizing words. "We should get some sleep. We don't know what they have planned for us."

Kahlan looked around, her dirt-streaked face somehow still looking as though it belonged on a painting in some great palace, not in a dirty, stinking dungeon. "I think I am too cold to sleep."

Cara lifted her chin, desperate to remain aloof. "I will stay close, then. For... warmth."

Kahlan met her eyes - forced Cara with the intensity of her gaze to make eye contact. "Thank you, Cara."

"You're welcome, Mother Confessor."

This would be an interesting night.

_**XXX**_

__The moonlight lit Richard's way as he knelt on the edge of a sharp, rocky rise, the smooth white walls of the city rising up before them. This is where the creatures had taken Cara and Kahlan.

"Rothenburg," Zedd said gravely from behind Richard. "The Margrave's city. He is the only one within a thousand leagues who commands creatures such as those that took Kahlan and Cara."

Richard's eyes zeroed in on the wall, searching it for weaknesses. He found none. Upon first, second, and however many other glances, the wall seemed impregnable. "And you say magic will be no help to us?"

"No." Zedd said. "Within the walls of Rothenburg there is no magic powerful enough to have effect."

"So Kahlan's power and Cara's Agiels are useless." Richard said with a sigh, pressing his hands to his eyes. "How did I let this happen."

"This is through no fault of yours, my boy." Zedd said gently, squeezing Richard's shoulder in a comforting manner. "I will go see what I can discover. You will be safe here, if you keep your sword at hand." With that, the wizard disappeared into the deepening night, leaving Richard in brooding silence.

"I will find you, Kahlan. And you, Cara. No matter what it takes, I will find you." Richard whispered to the darkness. But he was all alone.

_**XXX**_

Cara had never spent a more absolutely nerve-racking night _anywhere. _And that counted her training dungeons.

The Mother Confessor slept so softly and gently that Cara nearly locked every muscle in her body and almost attempted not to breathe in the efforts of staying completely motionless. And yet the discomfort was... oddly comforting. The rhythm of Kahlan's breath almost made her feel safe, secure. The simple evidence of the Mother Confessor's existence was more than enough to urge Cara on.

She could not sleep - that was not an option. She beat the odd rat away from them with the armored back of her glove, but that was nothing - rats had ceased to scare her a long time ago. And she waited for the sound of the approaching guards.

That sound came as soon as - if Cara was correct - day broke. She nudged the Mother Confessor, who was less than an inch away from her. "Cara...!" Kahlan said abruptly, sitting up. "You were supposed to wake me at my watch...!"

"You were tired." Cara said gently. "I was not. I saw no reason to wake you."

The stopped in front of their cell, turning their heavy key in the lock. Cara rushed forward, intending on hurting someone at the very least, but, predictably, was forced back by the second guard and earned herself a good smack for her troubles. "Stay back, D'Haran wench." he spat. "Bring the Mother Confessor ou' f'st, ri' then." He gripped Cara's chin with bruising strength. "You and I can have a bi' of a chat when the Margrave's had 'is words wiv ya." He grinned with missing teeth.

Cara spit in his eye.

He jumped, pulling back. He scowled and glared at her with stormy rage as he wiped the saliva from his eye. "Careful wiv this'un, lads, she's a feisty one." The guards pulled Cara roughly to her feet, jarring her strained shoulder. She gritted her teeth and pulled against their hold all the way up to a throne room, struggling as they fought to bind her hands, which they eventually did after the two throne room guards joined the fight.

The guards pushed Kahlan and Cara down before an empty chair, onto their knees. Kahlan's hood was up and her chin was down. There was a man facing a large bay window behind this ornate chair, clothed in rich white and gold. His dark hair was flecked with gray and fell to his shoulders. With his hands laced loosely behind his back, her turned and strode to his chair, sitting down, a thoughtful look on his face. At a flick of his hand, a guard tore Kahlan's hood off and yanked her head back by her hair. At the same time, another guard reached for Cara's hair - she yanked her head away.

"Leave them be, boys." The man in the chair said, crossing his legs. He almost looked to be enjoying himself. "They are guests in my home."

"Are all your guests wounded, starved, and left in the dungeons to rot?" Cara snarled. "If so, I spit upon your hospitality." she paused just long enough to make an insult. "My Lord."

The man did not seem to mind Cara much. His eyes were on Kahlan. "Do you know how much the Sisters of the Dark are willing to pay for your head, Mother Confessor?" he said. "Astronomical rewards."

"I'm sure." Kahlan said smoothly. Her face was devoid of emotion.

The man raised a hand. "But I'm not going to give them your head. Do you know why, Mother Confessor?"

"I cannot imagine why a man like you would turn down easy power, Margrave." Kahlan said.

"Because we've struck a better deal..." he waggled his index finger in Cara's direction. "That involves your lovely little wildcat in red leather."

Cara felt a vein jumping in her neck. At that moment, she could've matched the Keeper himself glare for glare.

"And what is it, Margrave of Rothenburg, that you want with a Mord-Sith?" Kahlan said, her voice unexpectedly sharp.

"Not just any Mord-Sith." the Margrave stood, clapping his hands together. "It is this _particular _Mord-Sith." He circled Cara, staring down his nose at her.

"If you're going to kill me, get on with it." she stated boldly.

"Me? Kill you? Oh, no no no, my misguided child. I'm giving _you _to the Sisters of the Dark - and in exchange, I get eternal life... and a wife to spend it with." He moved away from Cara and knelt before Kahlan, gripping her chin before she could move away. "We'll be married before your friend's blood has even run cold.

_**AN: **I had a severe case of insomnia when I wrote the majority of this, and the whole story has so far been unbeta'd, as this is. If it seems erratic, that's why. Leave a review and I'll eat a skittle in your honor. Pinky promise._


	5. Chapter 5

"_RRAHH!"_

The bars of their prison cell shook beneath Cara's unyielding rage. Her un-injured shoulder slammed into them, the rattle echoing in the arched, empty hall. She pounded her fist against the metal, adding to the noise, the bruising pain so familiar. Pain was all Cara knew. Pain was comforting. It was all she had. All she could ever have.

"Cara, please..."

With another snarl, Cara flung herself against the bars again, lashing out at a passing guard who didn't even turn to look at her.

"Cara..."

_"No!" _Cara whirled on Kahlan. "_You _stop. The Seeker is out there, alone, unprotected. Exposed. How can you just stand there and look at me?! Aren't you the one who supposedly loves him?!"

If nothing else Cara had said had gotten to Kahlan, this did. She took a step back, looking down at her own feet. "Supposedly, yes."

Cara stopped her useless railing, giving a large sigh and putting her hands on her hips. "Now isn't the time for a crisis in faith, Mother Confessor."

Kahlan took a few more steps back, sitting, leaning back against the wall. "I have every faith in Richard, Cara. I always have."

Cara stared for a moment. "If that's true, then help me. You want to get back to him as much as I do, if for different reasons."

Kahlan didn't move. "It isn't my faith that's in crisis, Cara. It's my emotions."

Cara's stare turned into a puzzled analyzing. "I don't see how that matters in the slightest."

"You wouldn't understand, Cara - you would venture into the mouth of the underworld before you kept your thoughts to yourself, if you thought they were important." Kahlan fiddled with the hem of her dress.

"Right now, it's getting out that's important." Cara continued. She felt like they were going in circles. "So... let's do that." She was becoming impatient. "What did they _teach _you in the Confessor's Palace? Thoughts and feelings are irrelevant when there's a job to be done. So get up and help me _do it."_

Kahlan looked from Cara to the cell door. "We can't."

Her tolerance was to its boiling point. The Mother Confessor was enigmatic, infuriating. A complete mystery to Cara. And she absolutely did not need a mystery right now. "And why _not?" _Cara said, as calmly as possible, clenching her jaw to stop herself from yelling.

Kahlan crossed her legs and adjusted the dress over her lap. "Because that wall is made of smoothed and sanded stone, backed by a sheet of a special rock that traps our voices inside, and then another layer of smoothed and sanded stone. Those bars are iron, filled with lead, and that lock has been crafted specifically for the purpose of denying entry to anything but the true key. There are guards crawling up and down the stairs, at the foot of the stairs, and at the top, where the only door opens into a corridor that is visible from the guard's bunker. My power doesn't work, nor do your Agiels. We have no weapons to fight them with." Kahlan met Cara's eyes. "This jail is all but impregnable. We cannot escape from here. We must wait for our chance, when they bring us out."

Cara opened her mouth to splutter, but no sound came out.

Kahlan's face was placidly calm. "So we need to just sit here and wait."

After a moment, Cara sat down with a huff. Sit here and wait. She could think of nothing she wanted to do less than sit here while the Seeker could be anywhere getting into all sorts of trouble, and here she was, sitting and _waiting, _listening to the Mother Confessor drag on about her emotions.

Cara tried and failed not to soften at the gentle sadness in those ocean-blue eyes.

_**XXX**_

Richard couldn't eat. His sleep had been troubled last night, and eventually he had told Zedd to go back to bed, and that he would take watch for the rest of the night. The old wizard was worried, but he kept his opinions to himself. Richard was a young man, full of fire and passion, and to have two of the people he loved so dearly snatched from under his nose couldn't be easy. Zedd knew this kind of pain; Richard was new to it.

His inquiries in the outlying taverns of Rothenburg had been fruitless. No one seemed to know anything. Gossip seemed to be virtually nonexistent, almost as if the people were afraid to talk. Maybe they were. And that gave Richard all the information he needed about the Margrave. He had to get in to Kahlan and Cara.

But how?

He turned his sword in his hands, letting its magic seep through his skin and into his veins. He let it live within him, accompanying him, his silent watchman, a dark passenger. His only comfort.

A rustling came from the trees just behind him. Richard sprang to his feet, the Sword of Truth flashing in the sunlight, his eyes cutting through the undergrowth.

"Stop! Stop, don't hurt us, disarm!"

A frightened looking man about Richard's age, maybe a little older, stepped into the camp. He had dark, curly hair and a round, boyish face with eyes as fearful as a child's during a thunderstorm. His clothes and soft belly gave Richard the impression this man was very well off - but the dirt on his hands and the tear in his sleeve spoke otherwise. Behind him there was a woman. An older woman, more filthy than the man, with a wide jaw and a tangle of dark hair. She was cowering in fear.

"Who are you?" Richard barked. He was in no mood for stragglers.

"We come from Rothenburg, sir!" the woman squeaked. She was staring at the ground.

"You..." the man said, having gotten a good look at Richard's sword. His eyes bulged out of his head. "You are the Seeker!"

"Who I am isn't the question." Richard stated.

"But you can help us!" the man sputtered, lurching forward. "My name is Jebediah!"

"Jebediah." Richard nodded and turned to the woman, finally lowering his sword. "And you are?"

The woman half-glanced from the corner of her eye at Jebediah.

"This is my mother, Mary." Jebediah said dismissively, as if it didn't really matter who she was.

"What is it you need help with, boy? Speak quickly, our patience is severely depleted lately." Zedd had appeared behind Richard, his arms crossed.

Jebediah gathered himself, his chest swelling outward with a sudden self-importance. "My father is the Margrave of Rothenburg. We need you to kill him."

_**XXX**_

"So, your father had your mother locked up and ready for execution just so he can spend eternity with Kahlan?" Richard spoke almost an hour of explanation later. He was horrified, not only with the terrible thought of Kahlan married to another man, specifically _that _man, but of the cruelty of the whole situation.

"That is correct." Jebediah said. His mother hadn't spoken at all during her son's long-winded monologue, and remained quiet even now.

"And _you _broke her out of the dungeons?" Richard tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice. From what he had seen and heard from Jebediah, the boy was lazy and incompetent, with an ego so out-of-proportion to his abilities it was a wonder he could walk.

"With the help of a few loyal guards." Jebediah shrugged. "They fled Rothenburg shortly after we did."

"What exactly were you planning to do, had you not run into me?" Richard asked, leaning forward to rest his chin on the hilt of his sword. "What was your plan?"

Jebediah puffed out his chest again. "We were going to hire mercenaries." he sniffed.

"And what will killing your father accomplish?" Zedd said shrewdly.

Jebediah got righteous then. Richard liked him less and less with every word he spoke. He didn't seem like the type of man who would save his mother purely for her sake. In fact, he almost seemed cold towards her. She had barely said a word since arriving. The boy must have an ulterior motive. There was no other explanation.

"He's a tyrant. His reign must end!" Jebediah raised a fist to shake at them, his round face flushed with emotion. "The injustices he has dealt -"

"And are you the sole heir to the throne, or will we be killing anyone else?" Richard interrupted. Jebediah's talk of the fight against tyranny was the biggest crock of lies he had ever heard.

"_No." _

The strength of the injection was almost as shocking as the mouth it came from. Mary stood, her jaw clenched. She still didn't make eye contact, but Richard felt the force of her gaze nonetheless. "None of my sons will be harmed in this - sir."

Jebediah turned purple. "Sit _down, _Mother!" he ordered. She obeyed immediately.

Richard kept his gaze on her. "Alright. You get us in to Rothenburg, and we'll take care of your father."

"You'll kill him?" Jebediah said, squinting at Richard with piggy eyes.

Richard stood. "I said we'll take care of it. You hold up your end, I'll hold up mine."

"Wait," Zedd put in. "What about Cara? What do they want with Cara?"

"The Mord-Sith?" Jebediah said blankly. "I've no clue. I thought they just drug her in as extra, to tell you the truth."

Richard thought back to the attack. Cara's pick up had not been random or a mistake. It had been as deliberate as Kahlan's.

One way or the other, he was going to find out what all this was about.

_**XXX**_

The newly-resurrected Sister Nicci crossed the wide expanse of meadow, her dark hood pulled up around her fair hair, watching the ground. She was not used to such pale coloring, standing out against the night which had been her disguise. The limbs that belonged to her now were long and slender, more graceful than she was used to. She had yet to look in the mirror and not jump just a little bit, wondering where the strange face had come from. But it was a body, a vessel in which to serve her master, and her discomfort didn't matter.

Her sisters awaited her in the damp stone cave. Sister Bretta at the entrance gave her a nod, and Nicci removed the hood of her cloak. The red-robed women all sat in a circle, their hands folded piously on their laps, their heads bowed. The entire scene was lit with a greenish light.

"Any word from the Margrave?" Nicci said, sweeping into the circle, instantly commanding the attention of everyone present. She ignored the steady _drip-drip _of water somewhere off behind her and stared hard at each sister, awaiting her answer.

"He has been successful." Sister Remi said quietly. "Both the Mother Confessor and the Mord-Sith are in his grasp."

Nicci's jaw tightened. "And the Seeker?"

The title caused a slight ripple of discomfort throughout the sisters, but Remi pressed on. "The Margrave assures us the Seeker will never gain access to even his city, much less his dungeons."

"The Margrave is too arrogant for his own good." Nicci murmured. There was a general sound of agreement. None of the sisters were very fond of dealing with the man and his lecherous eyes. "He underestimates the Seeker. Haste is our greatest priority. We must go tonight."

Nicci turned to the source of the greenish light, her hands clasped behind her back. "And with the Mother Confessor trapped in Rothenburg, the plan will proceed. Nothing will stand in our way."

Nicci trembled with excitement at the thought. The prophecy - both prophecies - would be overcome. And the Master of the Underworld would reign supreme.

_**XXX**_

Cara leaned her head against the back wall of the cell, bending her empty lunch tray along the middle. She had no idea what time it was. They had brought lunch maybe an hour ago - at least, she thought it was lunch. It might have been supper. When the guards dropped it off, Cara had snarled that a rat generally ate better. They had sneered in a very nasty way and told her if she wanted a better supper, she had better be prepared to sing for it, laughing evilly as they left with no explanation. Cara didn't think much of it.

The Mother Confessor was curled up on their single, ratty blanket, her dark hair a tangled mess. Finally, Cara huffed and flicked the disfigured lunch tray across the floor and stood. She began to pace like a caged predator. "I'm going crazy in here." she growled. "What do they want with us? What could they possibly want with me?"

Kahlan's thoughtful, still expression never wavered. "I don't know."

Cara turned on her heel and marched back across the cell, her movements jerky and unrestrained. She expelled a huff. "When will the Seeker do something? Has he forgotten us?"

Kahlan didn't blink. "I don't know."

Cara felt her restlessness and irritation rising to the surface, boiling under her skin with her blood. "What exactly _do _you know?" she snapped.

The Mother Confessor remained silent.

Cara gave up and plopped down back in her vigil against the wall. The Mother Confessor often got into the kinds of moods - around Cara, anyway - where silence and tension were mainstream and communication was a rare commodity. That had stopped after the incident in Cara's hometown, though. Or so she had thought. Perhaps the Mother Confessor was questioning her loyalty yet again. Maybe that was what she had meant by her emotions being in crisis. Strangely, the thought of her fidelity being questioned brought her no rage, as it would have not too long before. Only sadness and a little disappointment. Cara opened her mouth to say something, anything, but at that very moment, guards pushed open their cell door. Cara jumped and cursed herself. She hadn't even heard them coming.

"C'me on, wench. Up on ye feet. Time to sing for yer supper, lass." The guard's rough hand gripped Cara's upper arm and yanked her to her feet. Cara winced and pushed against him, scrabbling to get away, but without her Agiels, and as underfed and sleep-depraved as she was, his bulk was enough to overcome her.

"Cara - no!" The Mother Confessor cried with more energy than Cara expected. She lurched forward at the guard as he took Cara away, beating at him with her fists.

The other guard, the one holding open the cell door, shoved Kahlan back. "Don't you worry, doll face - your girl will be right back." As they shoved Cara away, the other guard called over his shoulder, "though maybe not in one piece!" to a hail of dim-witted guffaws.

Kahlan banged on the bars, a strangled cry escaping from her lips, for the first time understanding Cara's restless rage. It was not only being alone - though that was definitely some of it - her worry for Cara almost immediately eclipsed everything else. _Where are they taking her...?_

Cara fell onto her hands and knees on the dirt floor of an arena. Cheers echoed from all around her. The stands rising on all sides of her were filled. The grate behind her slid closed, the guards behind it still laughing. Laughing at her. Laughing at Kahlan.

Cara stood as quickly as she could, not wanting anyone to see her on her knees. The Margrave reclined in a place of honor, looking to be in high spirits as he clapped. "Friends, countrymen!" he proclaimed as he stood. The arena instantly fell silent. Cara noticed it was almost completely dominated by men, and the few women present sat docile, staring at their laps. "Today we will observe the greatest form of entertainment." he paused for the hoots and claps. "On one side - we have the starving Mord-Sith! Desperate for survival, trained for endurance -"

"Tired of listening to you talk!" Cara spat, speaking as loudly as she could.

The Margrave turned a nasty shade of purple. His next words were especially spiteful. "And on the other side -_ the fearsome long-tailed gar."_

A huge, scaly-and-furry creature was wrested from the other grate. As soon as the bulk of the creature resided within the arena, the guards dropped his chains and ran like mad. Cara noticed the creatures wings were clipped in order to keep it from flying away.

"In order to receive her next meal, this Mord-Sith must defeat the gar." the Margrave said, gleefully watching Cara for her reaction as the stands erupted. "Let the match _begin!" _Somewhere far off, a bell gonged.

Cara lurched out of the way as the gar, obviously trained to attack at this sound, struck. "Outstanding." she growled.

**AN: I'm sorry this took so long... I've been super duper busy. Many apologies. Reviews and advice are welcome - I don't particularly like this chapter, so, yeah. This time I'll eat an M&M for you. Moving up in the world, guys ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

Cara ran at full-tilt, sprinting around the gar as it rolled its short, muscled neck and lunged for her again. She sprang over its tail as the appendage cut through the air at her shins, diving over its path and rolling away as soon as she hit the ground. The crowd all around her was cheering, stamping their feet, howling for her blood, the gar's blood, some kind of gore.

Cara took a few steps back from the gar, never taking her eyes off it, every muscle in her body tense. It was somewhat intelligent - that much was obvious. It moved to its left as she moved to hers, circling, staying directly in front of her. Its small black eyes flitted from the guards behind its grate, watching, to Cara. Cara suspected the creature was not treated well. Not many attack animals were.

She didn't have many advantages. Size and strength were obviously a no-go. The gar had a longer reach, and its claws looked reasonably sharp. Cara had no weapons. Her agility was the only thing she had going for her at this point, and even that was depleted by lack of proper food and sleep. It seemed the Margrave had thought of everything in order to arrange Cara's untimely demise.

Her eyes searched its scaly, hard body for weaknesses. Its back was well protected, as was its skull. Breaking the neck or bashing the head in would be foolish. She had heard somewhere that a gar's windpipe was larger than that of any other creature, and therefore it could be crushed easily. But how was she supposed to do that? Cara clenched her gloved hands in the packed dirt at her feet. The sun beat down into the open-topped arena, searing and sticky. Cara came to a standstill, testing, examining.

As she had expected, the gar launched forward, striking hard at the very spot she had just been. She moved out of the way just in time - but in her momentary closeness with the gar, she realized her salvation. She cursed herself for her stupidity.

While being undoubtedly excellent predators, in the wild gar relied almost completely on their blood flies to find and track prey. They had a keen sense of smell, but dim eyesight and dull hearing. If she was going to beat this creature, she would have to make its senses lie to it.

And just like that, the idea occurred to her. It wasn't going to be fun. She found herself thinking that the Mother Confessor would heartily disapprove. But she also found herself hoping to live long enough to see that disapproving look.

She ran again at full tilt, swinging in a wide circle, keeping far out of its way. It whirled, swinging its head, roaring with frustration when she wasn't there. She was already behind it again, centrifugal force carrying her in a tighter coil. It was confused, turning in a circle, trying to keep her in its sights without leaving any vulnerabilities open. If this was going to work, she had to time it just right.

When the strike came, it came coupled with irritation. Teeth flashed in the sun, sharp like razors. Cara forced herself to remain still, muscles clenched. She angled her body sharply and sprang, at just the right second. Pain, like a hot and sticky flash of lightning, tore up her calf, but plunged no deeper than the initial flesh. The crowd roared in triumph, feet pounding, cheering the beast. The Margrave raised his hands in exultation, as if the victory were his. Cara's lips curled in a smile. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Ignoring the pain, she copied her previous maneuver, darting around the creature, allowing her own momentum to take some of the weight off her leg. Blood dribbled onto the ground after her. The creature was incensed and on the hunt, lurching again to where he smelled the pungent scent of blood as it dribbled down her leg and onto the dirt.

It was confused. She could tell. Wheeling around as though crazed, surrounded by her scent, it threw back its head and roared in consternation, narrowing its overly-strained and poorly-exercised eyes to see her. She felt a twinge of sorrow. The thing was basically blind. But this was an opportunity she couldn't waste.

She sprinted forward, sharp pains racketing up her leg and into her hip. She concentrated her weight on the other foot as she sprang up, latching with all her strength onto the creature's neck. She clenched her lower abdomen as hard as she could, sending her legs swinging up around the beast's scaly back. She clutched on as the crowd gasped and bellowed, tightening her arms around the animal's airway, stopping its breathing. It wheezed, and after a few minutes of thrashing, sank to its knees.

Cara found herself looking into its eye as it grew dimmer and dimmer. There were scars all around the socket, marring the smooth green scales. A memory came roaring to the surface of her mind like a tidal wave.

_"Get up, Cara."_

_ The voice was as cold as ice, and it meant death to young Cara's ears. She whimpered. "Mistress, I-"_

_ "Did I tell you to speak?!" Nathair snarled, snatching Cara up by her hair. Cara tensed and cowered. Nathair pulled her toward the door, still by her hair. "Stop that. Come on."_

_ "Mistress, where are we going?" Cara said, her tiny voice sounding terrified even to her own ears._

_ "Stop asking questions!" Nathair barked. Cara was confused. Nathair usually liked talking to her, even when she was hurting her. She always encouraged Cara to be vocal, in fact, and to question what was happening._

_ Cara found out exactly why her mistress was so tense when Nathair flung her into the small room with the window up at the top. The terrifying room that reeked of blood and fear, where the walls pulsated inward and cold leached in from the outside to caress the wounds of its captors. There was a woman on the other side, a skinny woman with scraggly hair. She was shaking and Cara could smell her all the way from across the room. She thought that she must be a prisoner. Cara and the other girls got baths sometimes and didn't smell quite so bad, Cara more so than others. Nathair liked for her to look nice._

_ "Last one standing gets to eat tonight!" Nathair called out as she closed the heavy iron door behind her. Cara hold the bolt slide home as she turned to look at the prisoner lady with the wild eyes. _

_ All she remembered that night was how much she had missed having warm bread._

As the roars of the crowd brought her plunging back to consciousness, Cara found her body acting of its own accord. Or, perhaps her subconscious knew her a little better than her conscious did. But either way, she was surprised to see her arms loosen around the creature's neck, and to hear it take a deep breath, and feel its struggles to get away from her strengthen again. She swung off of it before it could stand. She would not kill this animal. She knew what it was like to be the showman's executioner.

The Margrave stood too, his face flushed. "What the devil are you doing?! Finish it!" he bellowed, the chords of his neck standing out against his flesh. His eyes gleamed with rage.

The crowd was going absolutely insane, the stands quivering with their stomping feet. Litter and obscenities rained down upon the arena, bounding off the walls and ground with their momentum as the gar wheezed and edged away from Cara as best it could. It was half unconscious and the scales around its neck were broken and ragged. Only then did Cara notice the jagged scars on the inside of her arm, exposed under cleanly sliced leather. Hm. Curious. This pain was dull, surreal. Cara usually felt pain much more clearly than this. Was there something wrong with her?

"I'm not going to kill this wretched thing for your amusement. If you'd like me to gut something, come down yourself. At least that would be something worth doing." she called up to the Margrave, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

_"Seize her!" _the Margrave howled, pointing a shaking finger at her. _"Kill her! Bring her head to me!" _

Shit.

Guards vaulted over the divide between stands and arena while others poured from the grilles behind which the gar had been kept. Cara's head snapped from side to side as they closed in, fists clenched. There was nowhere to run and too many to fight without her Agiels, especially wounded as she was. It seemed she would never experience the Mother Confessor's disapproval. What a shame.

_"Stop."_

The voice, like a choir in the contours of a deep canyon, echoed in waves over the arena. All the men froze as they were, eyes wide with shock and surprise at their own paralysis. The crowd fell silent.

The Margrave sank to his chair, looking at something Cara couldn't see. But she knew that look. It was a look she had seen many times, a look she had sometimes inspired. It was the look of a man who has just been caught doing something he knows he should not do, by someone he is genuinely and absolutely terrified of.

As the source of this terror wove through the throng of frozen guards, Cara understood.

Nicci. Nicci in her new body with its flowing golden hair, sharp nose, and blue eyes the consistency of icy razors. And her magic. She obviously had something that allowed her to use it within the city walls. Cara thought to herself that she would've rather taken the free-for-all with the guards.

"My my, Margrave, you seem to be in a bit of a hurry to dispose of my payment." she said, her voice almost devoid of emotion, but somehow all the more scary for it. "Have your men take her back to her cage and you and I will have a discussion."

The Margrave gestured as his men fell to their knees or awkwardly onto the ground, released from their spell. Two of them recovered more quickly than the others and each grabbed one of Cara's arms. She yanked the un-injured one free and tried to lurch to Nicci. "What do you want with me?" she screamed into the silence, a cornered animal at her most dangerous. "If you've got something to say, say it to me!"

Nicci only laughed as several other guards regained control of their limbs and raced to help their companions secure Cara and drag her back to her cell, kicking and screaming the whole way.

_**XXX**_

Kahlan had never been more worried in her entire life. Her hands were red and almost raw, she had wrung them together so constantly. A thin spot was wearing in her already-worn riding dress from where she had toyed with it. She gnashed her teeth, mussed her own hair, paced like a restless lioness - all in the name of this frustrated anxiety. It was a gnawing, aching feeling that she was quite unfamiliar with. Not exactly worry, really. And she didn't like it. There was too much energy, too much movement. Her heart raced as fast as her thoughts; she couldn't think for its pounding.

What if they killed Cara? What would the Seeker do without his Mord-Sith?

What would _she _do without the woman herself?

_Now where did that come from? _Kahlan wondered. Her mind was a babbling brook, light and airy, clear, but shallow, passing through deep pools of shadow, easily read and understood. Thick undergrowth clouded her thoughts, obscuring her judgment. The cell was a collage of fleeting darkness, inky portals shifting about in her peripheral vision. Her eyelids were so heavy. Sleep had been hard the night before, even with Cara there, steadfast as a stone column beside her.

Kahlan sunk down onto the dirty floor, not even bothering to gather up her skirts. Was she going mad? That's what it felt like. What was this strange, lost feeling, this black death eating away at her heart?

She wished Richard were here. He understood matters of the heart with such perfect and striking clarity. Murky waters that stranded and isolated most people were as clear as a forest pool to him. He could tell her what she was feeling, she felt sure of it. He was the Seeker of Truth, after all.

_Truth. _The word that defined her existence. It nagged her, agitating the growing puddle of whatever it was in her chest.

"Let _go _of me, you pig, go find yourself a whore for that if any of them will have you-"

And just like that, it all melted away, pushed out by a warm blossom of relief. As she stood, a little unsteady, two guards yanked open the door and pushed Cara in. A small part of Kahlan's mind registered the fact that Cara was limping, sweating, and that her leather was matted with blood in several places, but she didn't care. She flung herself onto the Mord-Sith with a force she wouldn't have thought she had this far into her captivity. They stumbled, Cara leaning awkwardly back on her good leg to keep them from falling.

"You'd think I'd taken a stroll into the Abyss." Kahlan heard her mutter sardonically.

"For all I knew, you could have!" Kahlan exclaimed, breathless. "Where did they take you- and what the hell happened to your arm - _and _your leg! That's it, I'm not letting you out of my sight again, you just can't seem to manage-"

"Alright, alright!" Cara said, holding up her hands in surrender. She had never heard the Mother Confessor babble like this. She rocked back onto the ground, stretching her wounded leg out in front of her. "Hold, hold. They took me to the arena for a little R&R with a very handsome long-tailed gar. We got on sportingly."

"A _gar? _A gar did this to you?" Kahlan was horrified. She had heard stories of arena-fights like that before, but she had never known any civilized nation to practice them. She examined the gash in Cara's leg. It was deep, and the Mord-Sith had lost a fair amount of blood, but it didn't seem to have pierced anything vital. Kahlan pressed it with a piece of cloth she soaked in the lukewarm water she had been too excited to drink in Cara's absence.

"Unfortunately."

"How- how'd you get out?" From what she had read, any humans thrown into battle almost never made it out. But she should know better than to bet against Cara. This proved it once and for all.

"It was easy." Cara said, a little strain in her voice as she shifted. "I just thought of how angry you would be if I got myself killed."

Kahlan looked up from her task into the Mord-Sith's sweat-and-dust-streaked face. She had never noticed her eyes before. They were blue, standing out in an almost subdued way against her smooth skin and fair hair. Almost like an... like an angel. Cara had never had a problem with eye contact. Kahlan felt her heart catch in her chest. There was something soft about the way Cara was looking at her, tracing her, memorizing her. Or that's what it felt like. Kahlan had never felt so... studied.

Cara, for her part, was blown away by something unidentified and wild and unexpected, like a wave crashing down onto a sandy beach with all the force of a thousand raging stallions. For a moment, Cara found her lungs incapable of function.

The spell was broken as the cell door clanged open, and a guard entered, flanked by a companion. He set down a tray consisting of two meagerly stuffed meat pies. Both guards were snickering. "Here's ya lunch, dearie," one of them said. "Maybe ya can use it to pay for a better whore." both men burst into laughter at their own wit.

Rage, hot and dry, erupted into Cara's chest. She launched to her feet with an unintelligible cry, lashing out as both guards paled and slammed the cell door, stumbling back.

"Bloody mad, e'n't she." one of them said in an attempt to regain some of his dignity. With a glare, they took off.

"That's what I thought." Cara growled. Spirits, but her leg was throbbing. She hobbled back to her previous seat.

Kahlan was silent for a moment. "Some of the guards ran up, right before you came down. There was a commotion. What's going on?"

Cara remembered, suddenly, what had seemed so important on her walk down. "Nicci." she spat. "Nicci is here."

Kahlan was silent, cleaning Cara's leg now with another strip of cloth torn from her dress. "Well," she finally said. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

_**XXX**_

"This is it."

Richard peered at the seemingly seamless stone wall. "How do you know?"

Jebediah scowled. "Its here. Trust me."

The plan was quite simple, really. There was a marketplace in the atrium of the castle, which Richard would enter, disguised as effectively as possible without magic. Jebediah had provided Zedd with the details of the dungeon security, which he had become quite familiar with in the plans to free his mother. From that, Zedd had created a lock pick he claimed would work. Richard hoped he was right.

"Look here, my boy, it will still be a tight operation. This thing isn't going to work like the real key; it will take some finagling." the old man said sternly, pressing something wrapped in cloth into Richard's hands. Richard smiled reassuringly. When Kahlan and Cara's escape incited the riot he knew it would, he would kill the Margrave. That, he was ready for.

Zedd removed a tincture from under his robes. "An old remedy my mother used for adding a little gold to her tresses." he said when Richard looked hesitant. "For your disguise."

Richard nodded, and a few minutes later, he was no longer the Seeker, but a poor traveler with a messy blond topknot, a battered cloak, and a scar across his clean-shaven cheek disfiguring most of his features. Richard rubbed his jaw irritably. "It'll take me months to grow that back." he grumbled.

Zedd chuckled. "You looked like a tree with half its leaves blown off anyway, my boy. Best stick to shaving until you can grow a proper beard."

Richard scowled with his eyes, but the effect was marred by his smile. "Whatever you say, old man." he said. He fidgeted. His bulky cloak was stifling.

"You must remember-" Jebediah began, raising a pompous finger.

"To open the left gate. I remember." Richard said evenly. "You do your part, and I'll do mine."

Jebediah huffed, but said nothing else.

Zedd watched with a blank expression as Jebediah pushed a certain spot on the wall, opening a small space in the wall. "Ingenious." Zedd murmured.

With one last smile over his shoulder, Richard melted like a shadow into the crowds, glancing around him like a common tourist as the stone closed silently behind him.

It was done. There was no going back.

_Sorry for the wait, everyone who's still reading this. I tried to make it pretty good to compensate. Reviews and feedback are always welcome. Also, in case you didn't see, anyone who spotted the Dexter reference in the last chapter gets mad respect points. Ciao :)_


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